The Red Haired Girl from the Blood Red Room
by AmityWrites
Summary: I wish what people thought about Budapest was true. That Clint just so happened to have a mission to take me out, and "made a different call". I wish the hospital fire was something I did because of my Soviet indoctrination. I wish Dreykov was just a name. But those are only wishes. Natasha explains what happened in Budapest.


I wish what people thought about Budapest was true. That Clint just so happened to have a mission to take me out, and "made a different call". I wish the hospital fire was something I did because of my Soviet indoctrination. I wish Dreykov was just a name.

But those are only wishes. Just a penny in the well, while reality lurks in the shadows behind.

You want to know the truth, Fury? Here's what actually happened.

Back in Russia, in the midst of the Cold War, I was a little girl. My earliest recollection was holding my father's gloved hand as we trekked through the Siberian white snow to see my mother. Red boots and wool leggings tucked into knee high socks were just one necessity for this kind of weather. Coats, sweaters, layers and layers of clothes. For every step my father took, purposefully and firm, I would take three lighthearted skips. To my defense, I was only five.

The wicked wind chapped my lips and made my cheeks sting, but it didn't stop me from singing the song I learned at school that day. I was pulled back before we stepped inside the brick building, just outside of Stalingrad.

"Wait, Natalia. Your mother is not finished quite yet." His voice was stern, but not reprimanding. A World War II veteran, his stature was impeccable, every movement precise and swift. But I was his only child, and he was never an army general with me. We heard a click, then the door opened, and I faced my mother, expression cold. She never smiled.

"Natalia! Come give Mama a hug," She said. I never doubted that she loved me, not when I was young.

"Mama," I would squeal, as she picked me up, "Today I learned a song! It goes like…" And then continue singing as we walked down the halls of her boarding school. When you're young, you never doubt the affection or the words of your friends and family. Everything is absolute to children. You say that it is July, and they'll believe you, even if it's snowing. They believe they are the only ones that know how to lie.

There is a last time for everything. After that sweet memory, my mother was gone. What replaced her was a sickening, frightening, dictatorial teacher. I remember her face, frozen into a scowl. For all I could tell, she hated me as much as her other students.

I was eight years old when I enrolled in the academy.

"Natasha!" My eyes flickered open at the mention of my name. Yelena's blue eyes bored into mine. "Professor Dreykov will be here any second! You look like you just got up."

I yawned. "I did just get up, you idiot." Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stared outside. Spring was in full swing, light green everywhere, the flowers radiant with colors. My birthday was soon, but that didn't matter. I should have let go of such things long ago. "Besides, we're all chained here until she comes." As if on cue, the tapping of stiletto heels echoed through the door.

Before she spoke, her eyes surveyed the room, trying to catch any remaining sleepers.

"Good morning, ladies," She sighed, almost disappointed that there was no one to punish.

"Good morning, Professor Dreykov," We mimicked. By now, it wasn't awkward to refer to my own mother by her maiden name. She never liked Romanov anyway.

With her nod, two nurses shuffled into the room, unlocking us, then making sure we were in top condition. It was a daily ritual, and I never questioned it.

"Today you will be meeting some students from our other facility." There was no need for her to remind us of our behavior. If we were acting up, we would be caught, or worse, expelled.

When we arrived at the training room, I immediately noticed a boy my age, all blond hair and smiles. He walked over to us as we lined up, waiting for instruction.

"Alexei," He introduced. I looked past him to the wall. No boy was going to ruin my years of training. I wasn't going to waste my instructors anger on introductions. Just as I expected, his instructor shouted at him to get away.

The gym was less like an American fitness center, and more like a gymnastics academy. In fact, we did use some of the apparatus, the beam mostly, to strengthen our combat and balance together. As I watched my mother pace the floor, looking us over like an eagle to its prey, I noticed a slight look of mischief on her face.

"Ladies," She announced, "Today we have the highest ranked participant in the Red Guardian program to spar with us. Keep in mind that your mission will not always be sparring against your own classmates." I felt like her words were passively directed at me. I was fourteen. I couldn't go on believing that my life would ever change from my duty to the Soviet Union and the Black Widow program. Once I graduated, if I graduated, my friends that I made would be my enemies, and any other connections: non-existent. This was my future ahead of me.

Ahead of me, Alexei Shostakov, star pupil of the Red Guardian program, was mock fighting with Varinka Olgovich. Alexei lacked technique, but his speed made up for any errors poor Varinka could spot. With a final kick and a cry of pain, she hit the ground in a heap.

"Yelena," Professor Dreykov snapped, embarrassed and disappointed. "It's your turn." She marched up to Alexei and prepared herself. From the corner of my eye, I noticed three people in stiff suits enter the gymnasium. They held clipboards in their hands and were already writing by the time Dreykov reached them.

My head snapped away from them as I heard Yelena scream. There Alexei was, proud as ever to put another girl in pain.

"Get up!" One of our other trainers barked.

"I-I can't-" She blubbered, tears falling. She'd be punished for that.

I didn't know why, but I felt anger towards Alexei. After, this was just a spar, and we did them all the time. It was Yelena's fault. She shouldn't have been so slow. That was what I wanted to tell myself, but deep in my mind I wanted to scream at him. He shouldn't be allowed to walk into our academy and beat us all up.

Then again, he didn't have to beat all of us.

I hadn't had a turn yet.

As I walked up to him, I hoped my confident air would throw his attitude off. That was what kept his energy up. A devilish smirk fought to contain itself on his lips. I waited for a snarky remark.

"Looks like the red-head's a little red in the face," He laughed at his own joke until I clenched my fist and swung, hitting his jaw. He was startled, definitely, but ready. I ducked as he went for a jab for my throat and countered his kick to my stomach by grabbing his leg and twisting. He was taller, stronger, and fought dirtier than anyone I had ever seen, but I had the agility and mind to win. As his back hit the floor, a lifted my leg and swung it forward, but just as I had, he caught my leg. I went with the flow of the twist, hands hitting the ground to catch my face.

I winced as his foot met my side. My vision blurred as I crumpled, but I focused them on his feet and jumped up. We were a good five feet away, and by the position he was standing, I knew he was expecting me to kick. Because punching and kicking are the only moves girls know.

 _Okay, Shostakov,_ I thought _, you asked for it._ Instead of a simple round kick to the face, I did a round-off, jumping to my hands, pushing off, and the momentum of my legs meeting each other mid-air hit Alexei in the chest.

He was down, and he was down for good.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the last I saw of the Red Gaurdian.


End file.
